


Beauty and the Beast

by katfett



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Regency, Drama, F/M, Love, Regency, Regency Romance, Romance, Smut, ivar - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29599956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katfett/pseuds/katfett
Summary: REGENCY VIKINGS.The season is on. When the royal family of Norway lands in England, it was Charlotte's last thought to try and land a prince for a husband. It's hard to ignore the youngest prince though, he seems to have a habit of appearing when she least expects it. They whisper about him, but how much of it is true, and what is the real Ivar like?
Relationships: Ivar (Vikings)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Regency setting because it makes the romance and looks all the more juicy! This is fantasy regency, it is not going to be 100% historically accurate because I've shaped it to fit the Pagan/Christian dynamic. I hope everyone enjoys this opening.

The season was upon London, and for many it was one of excitement and anticipation. Many a young lady of the ton were to debut; ready to find themselves a husband or be shoved into the frowned upon status of spinster. This season came with an intense chorus of gossip at the news Alfred, their young crown prince was looking for a wife and that in the wake of the peace between England and Norway; the royal family of Norway would be gracing the English season.

People whispered about King Ragnar, a pagan, and his family; Aslaug, his second wife was supposedly a powerful witch, and their four sons were notoriously handsome and handfuls.

The peace, despite holding, was fragile. Pagans and Christians spending time together was the aim, to see if they could co-exist amongst one another. While stuck in this strange limbo, people worried another war would wage between the two great nations.

The ton had whispered about Ragnar’s baptism during peace negotiations, only to return home and continue his pagan traditions, but these people still whispered about whether Alfred was legitimate.

Now, the Viking royals would descend on the ton’s season; many a young woman as well as their mothers were eager to gain a potential match from the family.

Charlotte watched the rain sliding along the glass. Behind her, her sisters were running amok; giggling and dancing as they picked out fabrics they wanted for their dresses. Their mother, Lady Viscount Elizabeth Harding, fussed over their choices, ensuring they picked only the finest to match their colouring, hair, and personalities. She was a particular woman in that regard.

“Lotti, do not sit idle at the window dear, come and choose.”

Charlotte turned to face the chaos in the sitting room. Bolts of lace, silk and chiffon were strewn across the table between the chairs in many colours and styles. Spying the deep blue among the pile, Charlotte climbed from her place at the window and crossed the floor to the fabrics. She picked up the heavy silk, running her fingers along it.

Elizabeth so graceful in her middle years, sighed wistfully as she nodded in agreement, running her fingers along the fabric Charlotte held. “It’s beautiful; it’ll suit your complexion my sweet.”

She was right; it would indeed suit Charlotte. Of the seven children of the Harding family, Charlotte was the only one who took after their mother. Whenever people saw them together, they couldn’t help but comment on how striking it was to see mother and daughter side by side.

She glanced at her mother, worry creasing her delicate features. “Do you think they will gossip?”

Elizabeth frowned, noticing her four other daughters quietening down to listen in. “My dear, if they gossip it, we will take it in our stride. We have not been shunned.”

Charlotte certainly hoped they understood. She hadn’t intended to spurn the Duke, but he seemed content with Eloise Fulton, who he’d chosen only hours after she had rejected his proposal. Her mother still frowned when it was mentioned, unable to understand why Charlotte had turned the man down. In truth, Charlotte didn’t care for him, she’d tolerated his presence to appease her mother.

While her mother did not agree with her choice, Arthur, her father did. He’d long disliked the way the man had pushed for marriage so quickly, worrying that something had happened between Charlotte and the Duke. Nothing had. It didn’t stop the whispers, no matter how much Charlotte tried to ignore them.

“Come dear, cheer up, are you not excited to meet our guests in a few days?” Elizabeth said, dragging Charlotte from her thoughts.

She tried to smile, but it felt like a lie. She wasn’t really looking forward to the arrival of the royal family, she’d heard the rumours of the son’s behaviours with women, heard of the ice queen that was their mother, Aslaug and it terrified her to imagine these great heathens invading for the next few months. She only wished her father hadn’t been selected to deal with them, but his prior business with Ragnar made him the only candidate, and by extension the elder children were tasked with helping the princes feel welcome.

William and James were excited to meet them, having grand views of what these men would be like. They’d met Ragnar years prior and had been enamoured with the pagan king since. Charlotte was the only other child old enough to be among the welcoming party. She just hoped she left a good impression, for her father’s sake.

***

“Charlotte, sit up straight,” Elizabeth hissed. Charlotte glanced to where William was half sprawled across the seat they shared in the carriage and then back to their mother. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and gave her that look that said do it, or else. Charlotte slowly complied. She didn’t understand why she needed to sit straight when they were riding in a carriage without anyone but their immediate family.

Arthur and James rode ahead of the carriage. William had been forced into enduring the ride with Charlotte and their mother to keep them company. It had been an excuse to get the twins together.

“You two are to be on your best behaviour, no petty remarks to one another, no stepping on the other’s feet, am I clear?” Elizabeth said, looking between the two.

Charlotte glanced at her twin and smiled sweetly at him. What their mother didn’t see wouldn’t hurt her. William grinned back, poking his tongue out as a challenge. Charlotte returned it, ignoring her mother’s protests at the poor behaviour.

“Mother, we’re about to go mingle with a pagan king and his family, in his home, and you expect us to behave?” William asked, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair to tame it a little. The curls sprang back into his eyes and he huffed, blowing on them and making Charlotte chuckle.

“They may be pagans, we are not.” The hard, finality of the sentence made the twins fall quiet as they looked at one another. “You will behave as I won’t have you embarrassing your father or the family name.”

***

The estate had been gifted to King Ragnar some years ago, it had been under renovations and maintenance in all that time. The ball tonight was to show off the new work as well as introduce Ragnar and his family to the Ton. Aslaug rolled her shoulders as she watched the servants move about. Ragnar was out hunting with Floki, they’d promised to return in time, but she had little hope they would.

Entering the kitchen, she pursed her lips seeing Hvitserk. He was trying to talk sweetly to one of the kitchen girls while stealing an apple from the bowl she was carrying. “Hvitserk, let her work!”

Her second oldest grinned cheekily, swooping in to press a kiss to the flustered girl’s cheek before he darted off out the kitchen door. The girl was unsure of how to proceed as Aslaug stared at her. She dipped into a curtsy and apologised before she scampered off in the opposite direction to Hvitserk.

It was going to be a long day. She detested the idea of catering to these Christians. They were an entirely different breed of people and when Ragnar had demanded she adjust to them, they had fought – the entire voyage here.

She had relented to give them their customs for the dances and propriety, but that was it. The young ladies here were so delicate, and the idea of her sons being made fools of their hearts for one angered her.

It wouldn’t happen. She would ensure that, no matter what Ragnar had in mind.

***

They weren’t the first to arrive, thankfully. People were alighting from carriages already and heading inside. The estate was breathtaking. Its architecture hadn’t been disturbed from what Charlotte could make out in the evening light. She was curious as to what changes they had made over the years. Perhaps, it was all on the inside?

Her father was at the door as a coachman opened the door for them. He smiled warmly at her, then his eyes went to his wife. Charlotte could see the affection there in his blue eyes. They’d married for love and it still shone brightly between them and it had shaped the way Charlotte viewed marriage. She didn’t want to marry for personal gain, she wanted to marry a man who was her best friend, who she could laugh and live with as herself. It was why she’d turned down the Duke.

Elizabeth gave them one last warning to be on their best behaviour before she accepted her husbands outstretched hand and stepped out of the carriage.

“Don’t go falling in love with one of them,” William teased by her ear. Charlotte jerked her elbow back and gave him a sharp poke in the ribs. He grunted but chuckled.

“I have no intention of doing so, we’re too be polite and kind,” she replied. James held his hand out to Charlotte as he took his father’s place at the carriage door.

“Come, let us party with heathens,” he said with the widest grin and Charlotte smiled, taking his hand, and stepping out of the carriage into the warm night air. She adjusted the skirts of her dress, the heavy blue silk was beautiful, and Charlotte was grateful she had selected it, it suited her fair complexion and dark curls.

William climbed out of the carriage and took her other arm. He nodded at James and Charlotte before they fell into step behind their parents. Charlotte’s gaze went up to the house, she told herself to be polite and kind, be on her best behaviour from here on out.

***

“She will be angry.”

Two pairs of bright blue eyes met each other across the chessboard. “Let her be angry, we have a game to finish.”

Ivar watched his father move a pawn on the board. He had not bothered to dress formally for the evening, he had no intention or obligation to join the Christian ball his mother was throwing. It seemed his father was doing everything he could to avoid joining it himself. Ragnar had brought them here for business, not balls. The idea of a ball still flummoxed Ivar who had watched his three older brothers all dress in their finest clothes; leathers and furs still adorned them, but they had submitted to Aslaug’s wishes that they bathe and look presentable. When Ragnar had slipped into the room an hour ago, he’d brought mead and asked if he would like a game of chess. Ivar had not refused; he’d been alone for the better part of the evening as his mother and brothers were off to join in the festivities.

Ivar shifted in his chair, unable to hide the wince as pain twinged up his right thigh. He reached down to massage the spot, sighing heavily as he reached for the cup of mead nearby.

“Have you been using the tea?”

He looked at his father for a moment before giving a short nod. “Yes, but it is only temporary.” His pain had been minimal today; he had spent most of it pouring over books in the library to soak up the hours, trying to rest so he didn’t spend the night tossing and turning from the pain.

Ragnar grunted a non-verbal reply before gesturing for Ivar to make his move. Ivar set the cup down and looked at the board. His father had taught him well, they were well matched in their skill at the game. Ivar moved his piece, taking his father’s remaining knight. It was check.

“You did not want to join in tonight?”

Ivar glanced at his father whose eyes were intent on the board before them. He shook his head. “What use is a cripple in a dance?” His father’s lips twitched whether to smile or frown, Ivar couldn’t figure out.

No, Ivar had no say in coming to England. His mother had refused to leave him behind in Norway and it had angered him as he’d been sick the entire voyage. It had taken him days to get use to dry land again. He had no love for this place, it was too stifling. His father had spoken of it for years and to see it, Ivar was underwhelmed. The women here were shy and recoiled at the mere sight of him, even with his crutch and braces that Floki had helped him fashion back home, they knew who he was and tried to avoid him. No, he didn’t like England one bit and he hoped their time here was short lived and Ragnar’s trade concluded sooner than they hoped.

***

Charlotte was in awe. The ballroom was decorated in tapestries and flowers and furs. It looked nothing like she expected, and it was breathtaking to take in the strange clash of flora and fur. They entered as one and Charlotte’s eyes darted everywhere, taking it all in with wonder. James and William didn’t release her as they moved through the crowd. She recognised many ladies and lords, smiling and greeting those who acknowledged them. It was hard to keep her eyes on one thing for too long. It was warm and inviting to be in here.

Her eyes then fell to the bottom of the grand staircase. The royal family stood out among the crowd. Unlike her brothers, the three men standing with the regal woman were dressed in a mixture of furs and leather. They stood tall and quiet as they greeted the families that were led to them.

She looked over each of them. Queen Aslaug was beautiful in a cold way, her smile was drawn, as though she wished to be done with them all. Her nods were short, her hands gesturing as she spoke to the people before her. Then there were the sons.

“Do you know their names?” William whispered, leaning in close to her. Charlotte shook her head. “Ubbe, is the oldest, next was Hvitserk, Sigurd and Ivar.”

Charlotte looked over the men, curious as to who was which son. She realised her brother had named four sons. “Where is the fourth son?”

“They say he is crippled and doesn’t attend events like this,” James said. They stepped forward as the next family was ushered forward to meet with the four royals. “Though I don’t see King Ragnar anywhere, do you brother?”

“He will be here,” Arthur said to them, glancing back at the three. Charlotte could see the slight worry in her father’s eyes. He’d expected King Ragnar to be here to greet them.

Murmurs drew their attention as the family in front of them stepped away and the Hardings were finally face to face with the Lothbrok royals. Charlotte glanced up at the top of the staircase as a man descended them at an unhurried pace. Was this Ragnar? Even from the bottom of the stairs, Charlotte was able to take in intricate tattoos across his bald head. He was a sight to behold, powerful and oddly graceful in his movements. Like his sons and wife, he was wearing clean leathers and furs.

Arthur sighed in front of her and Charlotte could see the relief flood into her father’s shoulders. He approached without a word, grabbing Arthur into a large hug, chuckling.

“It is good to see you, old friend,” he said, his voice thick with his accent as he clapped Arthur across the back. Up close he was intimidating. There was a powerful, calculating air about him. His eyes scanned over the three of them behind their father. They slowed as they swept over Charlotte and she felt a little unnerved by the intensity of his gaze. How did people not cower at his feet? She averted her gaze, looking away, unable to hold his stare.

He pulled back from her back, motioning to them. “Your children?”

Arthur turned to face them, looking rather small with the larger man’s arm slung across his shoulders, nodding. He gestured to James. “My oldest, James.” James nodded, bowing a little at the king. “And my twins, William and Charlotte.” William followed James lead and Charlotte dipped down into a curtsy as the king stepped in close to the three of them. He nodded at James, holding his arm out to shake hands with the younger man but his gaze remained trained at Charlotte and suddenly she felt small.

Straightening up, she was surprised when he held out his hand to her. Uncertain, she glanced to her father and then her mother both nodded at her without a word. She tried to smile as she slipped her fingers into his large grip. His grip was gentle around her fingers as he brought her hand up to his lips, brushing them across the back of her knuckles as he stared at her.

Charlotte was unable to hold back the nervous swallow. He pulled back, releasing her hand, turning his focus to William at her other side. Smiling at them, he stepped back, gesturing for them to follow him. “Come, meet my family.”

Arthur smiled, nodding as he took Elizabeth’s hand after Ragnar greeted her, commending her on her beauty, making her blush. Charlotte had never seen her mother blush. Well, at least it was not just Charlotte who felt the effects of the man’s overwhelming presence.

They drew in close to the four watching them from the bottom of the stairs.

“Wife, come, meet my old friend,” Ragnar coaxed, taking the tall woman’s elbow to guide her towards them. “Aslaug, this is Arthur and his wife, Elizabeth.”

Charlotte’s eyes fell to the sons as her parents greeted the queen. They were watching the interaction intently. It wasn’t hard to see the resemblance of the tallest one to his father, they had the small mannerisms in how they stood; the tattoo running down his face were symbols and Charlotte was curious what they meant.

Aslaug was then before them. Like the King, her presence at such close range was intimidating. It was hard to maintain the woman’s gaze. It was like she was staring deep into your soul, seeing everything. Charlotte curtsied low as her brothers bowed.

“Ubbe, come,” Aslaug said, turning to face her sons. The one with the tattoo across his face stepped forward then. This was their eldest son. He smiled, bowing in return to Charlotte’s brothers and then turned those blue eyes to her. Charlotte wanted to crawl under a blanket. This family was blessed with eyes so intense it was hard to maintain eye contact, but she smiled politely, curtsying as he took her hand. He kissed the back of it, his thumb stroking over her fingers as he did. Charlotte blushed furiously.

Aslaug presented Hvitserk, their second born next, his smiling was infectious, and he was quite cheerful in his greeting, shocking Charlotte when he winked at her making her blush. The ladies were going to love him. Sigurd, their third born was subdued, nodding but not reaching out to take her hand as the other two had. He looked the least like their parents, but he was still quite handsome with his long curly blonde hair and sweet blue eyes.

Tonight, was going to be interesting, and long.

***

The sons of Ragnar were all quite handsome. Each entirely different in their look, striking, but still brothers. Most of the young women were fascinated by them, while parents whispered at the danger of letting such charming men near their daughters. There was something captivating at the way they managed to mingle among the party with confident ease. In their formal wear, they were handsome and the tattoos covering them were alluring, what pains it must have been to have them marked into their skin.

They were so different to the men of England, even her brothers did not have the presence these men did. Her brothers behaved like the gentlemen they were raised to be. These men weren’t raised like that. Charlotte’s parents stood with Ragnar and Aslaug as Charlotte found Eloise, Agnes and Georgiana and joined in their quiet discussion of the princes.

“The blonde is pretty,” Agnes gushed quietly, giggling as she watched Sigurd, the blonde in question. He was in an animated conversation with her brother William.

“Prince Hvitserk is little an eager puppy,” Eloise chortled, hiding her smile behind her hand as they watched Hvitserk ducking in and out of people’s way as he made a beeline towards the food. Charlotte noted that he hadn’t stopped eating or drinking since they’d finished introductions. “Do you think the crippled one is lurking somewhere? I heard he travelled with them.”

Georgiana nudged Charlotte and Agnes at the same time, her eyes on someone coming up behind Charlotte.

“Prince Ubbe,” Georgiana breathed, dropping to a curtsy. Charlotte turned, dropping into a curtsy as he stopped before the four young women. His gaze fell over each lady, who all had a similar visible reaction to his presence, they shivered beneath that intense gaze.

He bowed as he spoke, “Ladies.” His voice was rougher than his fathers. His gaze settled on Charlotte and he smiled.

Oh dear, Charlotte thought to herself. A woman could get use to a face like that. She had kept her distance from the princes, content to just spend time with her companions for the evening until it was over.

“My lord, would you care to dance? My card has a place left.”

Charlotte struggled to contain the roll of her eyes, she blushed as Ubbe chuckled having caught her reaction. The slim blonde who appeared at Charlotte’s side got too close. Margrethe was a pretty woman, but her ambition could sometimes be grating. Charlotte didn’t step back, she refused to move.

As though he could sense the tension between the two young women, Ubbe spoke, “I would be honoured.” Charlotte watched as Margrethe held out her wrist, directing him to the card around it and explaining that he had to put his name on it. Though he looked a little baffled by the concept of it, he obliged Margrethe. Then he glanced at Charlotte.

The card around her wrist was empty.

“Do you not enjoy dancing, lady?” Margrethe hadn’t moved from her side and Charlotte smiled politely, trying to ignore the smirk from the blonde.

While she had been enjoying her time with her companions, they had been asked to dance and Charlotte had not. It seemed those of the Ton still remembered the events of last season. How would she explain that to a foreign prince?

“I do, my lord,” she said quietly, “though it seems others are more fortunate.” She motioned with her eyes to Margrethe who was watching them both intently. He slowly nodded and then held his hand out to her wordlessly.

“Then I am fortunate indeed,” he said. Charlotte was surprised when he didn’t wait for her to respond as he took her wrist, turning her hand up to his so he could reach the card. All four women around them gasped, giggling and Ubbe paused, glancing at them with a furrowed brow. It was quite funny to see the man suddenly uncertain.

Charlotte gently withdrew her hand, smiling softly at his confusion.

“Touching each other outside of formalities can be seen as scandalous,” she explained, trying not to blush.

He cleared his throat, straightening up. “I apologise.”

The awkwardness of the moment was killed by the appearance of Hvitserk at his brothers’ side, smiling around a mouthful of food. “Ladies, welcome to our humble hall.” All the ladies giggled at his exuberant greeting, and Charlotte couldn’t help but smile at him. He was quite attractive, his smiling making him appear young.

“The ladies were just explaining the dance customs to me,” Ubbe said, not looking at them.

Hvitserk nodded, his gaze going over each woman in front of him. Perhaps he was a rake? Charlotte felt horrid for thinking it, but the way he was so casually staring at them made her realise he could charm most women with that smile. “Do tell?”

His gaze landed on Margrethe but then moved to Charlotte. Almost like they knew she was the eldest of the group, they deferred to her. It was strange to have men deferring to her for an explanation. Her mother was usually the one who spoke as Charlotte stood by her just listening.

“Touching,” she said, watching the way he licked his lips and tried not to blush, so she directed her attention to Ubbe, “is frowned upon between single people.”

Hvitserk whined. “How do you people live like this?” The outburst made Charlotte genuinely laugh and Ubbe smiled at her.

“We manage, though we usually aren’t in the presence of Princes unuse to such restrictions,” she offered.

Ubbe then glanced back down to her wrist. “Would you let me dance with you?” he asked, and Charlotte nodded, holding her hand out so he could fill out the card. Hvitserk watched and then grinned, producing an apple from somewhere in his tunic and munching into it, before holding his hand out to her wrist.

“Hvitserk, manners,” Ubbe growled. The sudden deep throated growl did something to all the women before them. Oh boy.

Hvitserk had the decency to mumble an apology. Charlotte let him fill out the card on her wrist and then he surprised her by darting off somewhere into the crowd. Ubbe huffed out a sigh. “I’m sorry, he’s more boy than man still.”

Charlotte grinned. Somehow, she had ended up with the names of two princes on her dance card. This was going to be interesting.

***

The reel she was stepping Ubbe through was not hard, though the poor man looked a tad uncomfortable trying to follow her steps. She laughed at his awkwardness and he grinned at her. He was certainly a handsome one.

“So, why did no one else offer to dance with you?” he asked as they moved.

Charlotte had hoped he wouldn’t ask her. “I- Uh, I turned down a proposal last year, some do not see me as worthy of their time because of it.”

He seemed so confused. “Because you chose not to marry a man?” She nodded. “Strange people.” Charlotte laughed.

“They didn’t shun us from events, but their lack of interest shows their feelings.” Ubbe nodded.

Hvitserk cut into their view and Charlotte giggled as he danced rather badly with Eloise who was trying so hard not to laugh. “Your brother has two left feet, my lord.”

Ubbe glanced in the direction she was looking and chuckled. “Only when it comes to dancing.”

“Your brother did not join tonight’s celebration.” Ubbe’s smile fell and he shook his head, though he didn’t seme bothered by her comment.

She was curious about the youngest prince; she’d been hearing the gossip all night from the girls and those out of the family’s earshot that he had been seen among the grounds, but he had not joined them tonight. Did he not like celebrations? Was his condition so grievous?

“Ivar is, a handful,” Ubbe said, though there was no anger behind his words. “He has trouble walking and sometimes the pain makes him irritable.” She nodded, about to apologise for being nosy when he smiled at her. “He prefers to not be reminded of his condition by having strangers stare and whisper and our mother doesn’t like to push the issue.”

***

Hvitserk stepped on her foot, twice. He apologised but Charlotte didn’t mind. She’d had her feet trod on by her brothers and younger siblings during dance lessons. His playfulness was infectious. He must be so carefree, Charlotte mused as they departed the floor and Charlotte joined her father and mother.

Her mother was smiling at her.

“Are you enjoying the night?” Arthur inquired. Ragnar and Aslaug had departed somewhere else and so it was just them.

Charlotte nodded. “I am.”

“You are doing wonderful to keep them entertained,” her mother commented. Charlotte frowned. It wasn’t hard to be enjoy the company of the princes. Ubbe was stoic and sober while Hvitserk was playful and energetic and their company was welcome. She would’ve had no dance partners were it not for them.

“They were gracious enough to dance with me so I would not be left out, I cannot thank them enough.” Her mother seemed content with her response, giving her a curt nod. What had she said or done wrong? She had remained polite and kind to the princes. She had not embarrassed their family.

A little frustrated by her mother’s sudden shift in mood, Charlotte turned her attention to her father. “They are wonderful company, father.”

Arthur smiled at her; his eyes soft if not a little glazed over from his partaking of the strong alcohol they were serving. “I’m glad. They have grown since I last saw them. Ubbe and Hvitserk were barely ten then, now they are both grown men.”

“Men without wives,” her mother whispered. Charlotte realised then what her mother was up to. She had been hoping to avoid this ambitious streak in her mother with the princes. While both princes were friendly, and handsome, Charlotte had no interest in entertaining the prospect of marrying either one.

“Yes, and they seem uninterested in settling,” Charlotte replied in just as low of a whisper.

“They show interest in you though, daughter.”

She sighed and glanced to the two men in question who were dancing with Margrethe and Eloise. Eloise was blushing furiously at something Hvitserk had said as he laughed. “And now they show interest in Margrethe and Eloise. They’re being polite and respectful because it is a ball mother.”

Arthur held a hand up to stop the conversation. “Enough, we do not need to discuss this here.”

Both mother and daughter went quiet, agreeing with the man. It was not the time, nor the place. Charlotte didn’t want this again. Last season had been a nightmare, her mother had pushed and pushed for her to spend time with the Duke and look what it had done. Charlotte would rather risk ending up a spinster than forced through another courtship. She was dreading the carriage ride home.

***

Ivar leaned against the bannister of the staircase, shrouded in the dark of the second level as he watched the crowd below, he’d been here since his father came down the stairs. He was content to watch his brothers make fools of themselves. Hvitserk and Ubbe were dancing, Sigurd was off talking to one of the musicians and his parents were interacting with the guests.

He sighed and turned his gaze to the woman near the bottom of the steps talking to a couple. Her deep blue silk gown stood out among the sea of creams and peach colours. Her dark hair was pulled up, her curls escaping their confines. The dress complimented her skin and Ivar watched the way she frowned at something the older woman said. Her face scrunching up a little awkwardly and she looked like she wanted to argue. Arthur’s daughter. Ragnar had pointed the family out before he’d kissed the top of his head and headed down. She had captured Ubbe’s interest, and he’d watched them dance together, chuckling at how his brother was awkwardly moving through the steps. Hvitserk stood on her feet and he’d winced a little.

Ubbe was enjoying himself, his older brother had an ability to slide into wherever they ventured with a confident ease. Hvitserk was drinking far too much, but hopefully the amount of food he had consumed would help absorb the effects. He was going to be nursing a sore head tomorrow. Ivar would just find ways to make it worse and he chuckled thinking about finding the loudest whistle he could get his hands on before morning. Sigurd was focused on the music and Ivar rolled his eyes, typical.

He grunted as he pulled himself up on from the floor, grabbing his crutch. With a heavy sigh, he took one last look at the party before turning and moving down the hall to his room.


	2. PART TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support for part one! I hope you all enjoy Charlotte and Ivar meeting!

**PART TWO**

The return home was uneventful; her mother had been quiet for most of the ride unless to speak with her father who had joined them in the carriage. Charlotte was sure she wanted to be vocal about her brush aside of trying to gain the favour of the Norwegian Princes, but she kept it to herself. She was grateful. While Charlotte had enjoyed the company of Ubbe and Hvitserk, even with her sore feet, they were only here for the season; what would happen if they were to propose and it was accepted? Would she say goodbye to her life here and return to Norway to live among their people? Would the Prince she married remain here stifled by her people?

It sounded ridiculous when she pictured a man like Ubbe, despite his ease and respect of their ways, living here for the rest of his life. Hvitserk would go crazy, she felt, he seemed too much of a free spirit to stay in the English society. He’d barely stood still during their interactions. Sigurd, she didn’t know how to take him. He’d not spoke to her for long, and even then, it seemed more formal and out of duty.

William was snoring beside her, he’d truly drunk more than was considered appropriate. Her mother had dozed off. It was Charlotte and Arthur who sat in the quiet as they journeyed home.

“Did you enjoy tonight?” Arthur asked.

Charlotte smiled. “I did, they’re so different to us but it’s fascinating, and entertaining. They’re full of life and they don’t have reservations like we do.”

Arthur grinned, nodding. “They’re definitely Ragnar’s sons.”

“William said there was another, but he didn’t attend. Ubbe told me a little of him,” she said.

Arthur’s grin disappeared and he shifted a little, mindful of Elizabeth leaning against him. “There are two other sons. Ragnar had a wife before Aslaug, Lagertha. She gave him a son, Bjorn.”

Another son? The man was blessed to have so many sons. Had he remained behind in Norway? As though Arthur could read her thoughts, he continued, “He remains in Norway, attending to matters there. He used to accompany Ragnar when he was younger, but there is tension between Aslaug and Bjorn.”

Charlotte nodded. “Is it because he is the heir and not one of her sons?”

Arthur pursed his lips, inclining his head. “That is part of it.”

Confused, but not wanting to pry too much, she decided to change the subject. “And the youngest prince, Ivar?”

Arthur glanced away. “Was born, different.”

Charlotte knew what he meant. The whispers of him being a cripple had spread fast, Charlotte hadn’t known whether they were true, but her father confirmed it. Ubbe had in a way, but she’d not pried too much.

“You mean, he is crippled,” Charlotte said, watching the way her father refused to meet her gaze.

“And a prince, Charlie. They have,” Arthur started and then sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, “Their customs are different. Children born like Ivar, they are meant to be left to die, a mercy to spare their suffering and that of their loved ones.”

She stared at her father, horrified. “Why? How could a parent do that?”

“Sometimes, they can’t bear to see the pain their child is in,” he offered. She couldn’t imagine leaving a newborn to die.

“How do you know this?”

He gave her half a smile, it was sad. “I was there when Aslaug had Ivar, I spent some time there after the birth. Ragnar was lost, he didn’t know what to do. His personal beliefs conflicted with the love he had for his youngest. We spoke about it, at length.”

Her father was the reason Ivar was alive? How did he convince someone like Ragnar to spare his youngest? Charlotte looked at her father in a new light. Arthur chuckled quietly and Charlotte frowned. “You and Ivar are not far apart in age, you know? Your mother had you not long before I came back from Norway. She never forgave me for that.”

Really? She was even more curious about the young Prince. All three of the brothers she’d met looked so different to one another, what would Ivar look like? Would he be fair, like them? Or dark haired? What colour would his eyes be? “Will we meet him while they’re here?”

Arthur lifted his free shoulder, shaking his head a little. “If he decides to join in on the events, then we will meet him.”

Charlotte nodded, leaning back into the seat. William snorted in his sleep and Charlotte glanced at him, smiling. Turning her attention back to her father, she found him watching her quietly.

“Why the interest, Charlie?”

She tried to hold her smile but it faltered. Arthur had always seen through her; he’d been so close to her in the years between William and Charlotte and then their sister Jane being born. It hadn’t waned over the years; her oddness was what her father had encouraged; her love for all things unconventional.

“I’m not sure, I just–” she started, looking out at the darkness beyond their carriage. “I think of what a man like that would be like. His world has been unkind to him since his birth, is that all he’s ever known? His outlook on life would differ so to my own.”

“But he is not a sideshow exhibit, Charlotte,” Arthur said, not in an admonishing tone. Charlotte nodded. She understood why he said it. In their world, the different were a spectacle, a curiosity to fill boredom. She didn’t want to treat the youngest prince like that, but she did want to know him.

“I promise I do not think of him as a curiosity father. He could not or would not attend tonight, and I understand why given everyone’s proclivity for gossip but that excludes him further from us. His brothers saved me from being an embarrassment tonight by dancing with me.”

Arthur smiled. “He is a son of Ragnar, believe me when I say it was his choice that he did not attend tonight.”

***

Charlotte woke the next morning as her sisters burst through her bedroom door, diving into bed with her. She groaned as Jane elbowed her in the stomach on her way across her.

“Are they handsome?” Lizzie, the youngest at twelve, asked bouncing at the foot of the bed. It was still dark outside. Charlotte rolled away from her sisters, burying herself deep into the blankets.

“Go back to bed, all of you, the sun hasn’t even risen.”

“How can we go back to bed when we’re going to the Lothbrok estate today!”

At Jane’s proclamation, Charlotte’s eyes snapped back open and she turned halfway to look at the four girls. “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t father tell you?” Charlotte frowned. No, he hadn’t. Either on purpose, or forgetfulness he’d failed to mention their trip back to Ragnar’s estate. “Father and the King of Norway are meeting for business; we are invited to spend the day with the Princes and the Queen.”

Her mother was, no doubt, salivating at the idea. Charlotte was tired; it was too early for this. “Then spend the day we shall, but after the sun has risen, so go back to your own beds.”

Jane giggled, and the other three Harding girls dove into the bed with Charlotte and Jane, curling up to their elder sister tightly. She should’ve been mad, should’ve told them off for interrupting her sleep and then invading her bed but they were sweethearts, and it was difficult to yell at them. “What are you all doing?”

“We want to spend as much time with you as we can,” Harriet said, muffled from somewhere beneath the blanket by her waist.

“Oh?” Charlotte asked, not opening her eyes. “And why is that pray tell?”

“Because soon you’ll be carted off a Prince and we’ll never see you again.”

While her sisters giggled among themselves in the darkness, Charlotte’s eyes were open wide with panic. She wasn’t going anywhere soon; she would ensure that her mother’s scheming did not pay off. Even if she had to spend the rest of her days as a spinster.

***

Her maid had finally woken them at sunrise, her mother came bursting into the room as the girls all scrambled out of the bed. She shook her head as the four younger girls all darted out of the room, escaping back to their own rooms. Charlotte didn’t look at her mother, she focused on getting ready for the day.

Lucy, her maid, helped her out of her night clothes. “We need to discuss how today will go, Charlotte.”

She sighed, her back to her mother as Lucy helped her. Lucy gave her a kind smile, though she didn’t stop her task. “Today is going to go as last night did, I will be polite and kind.”

Her mother pushed Lucy aside to make Charlotte focus on her. Charlotte sighed, squaring her shoulders as she stared back at her mother’s stern expression passively.

“You are going to engage Ubbe, or the young one, Hvitserk,” Elizabeth stated, matter of fact. “Either will make an adequate husband. Ubbe, seems the more serious of the two, the other seems wilder, he might stray too quickly.”

Charlotte stared, mouth agape at her mother’s forthright words. This was too strange; Charlotte’s mother had never spoken of the Duke in such a way. She didn’t know how to respond. Her mother was so sure of Charlotte’s capability to even keep their attention. That the King and Queen of Norway would even agree to such a joining. Surely, there were Princesses better suited to marry the sons of Ragnar.

“I am going to be polite, as a guest, mother,” Charlotte said, finally finding her voice. “I am not going to fall into this scheme with you. I don’t love them.”

Elizabeth paused, watching her. “I didn’t love your father when we first met. Love takes time, Charlotte. You need a husband, one of them will be perfect, your father will ensure everything will fall into place.”

Charlotte wanted to argue, but it was too early. Elizabeth left, telling Lucy to help her finish. Lucy clucked her tongue as the door shut behind Elizabeth. “Quite the dragon this morning, isn’t she?”

Charlotte chuckled a little, nodding. “She thinks I need a Prince.”

Lucy smiled, stepping over to the dresses she’d laid out when Elizabeth pushed her aside. “A Prince wouldn’t be so bad,” she said. Charlotte gave her a rueful look. “You’d match them in stubbornness, that is for certain. Do you truly not want to marry?”

She sighed. “I want love. I want a friend who I trust as my husband. I’m not saying I wouldn’t have that with Prince Ubbe or Prince Hvitserk but forcing this on them, and me, is not right.”

Charlotte wanted someone who she could laugh with, who would be able to spend a lifetime with her; flaws and all. A companion like that, it couldn’t happen in a season. Could it?

***

William and James were absent from their trip today. Their father had left ahead of them. Elizabeth shuffled the excited girls into the carriage and Charlotte grimaced as Margaret stepped on her foot when she squished in against her. There was ample room, her brat of a sister just liked to make things difficult. The carriage ride was filled with giggles and gossip.

“Do they really have tattoos?” Harriet asked.

Elizabeth frowned, not liking the subject and Charlotte took advantage of it. “Yes, Ubbe has some running down his face. Hvitserk told me his chest and left arm are marked as well.”

The girls stared at her wide-eyed. It was somewhat hilarious the way they reacted to such a simple piece of information.

Elizabeth spoke, “You are not to gawk, you are to act like young ladies, am I clear?”

Four heads nodded at her. The warning was likely not going to matter; her sisters were going to end up fawning over the Princes. Unfortunately, it seemed to be a side effect of their unusual appearance. Last night, people hadn’t been able to take their eyes off them and with good reason. They were handsome, and dangerous.

Thankfully, none of her sisters were of marrying age for another year or two, depending on her mother’s opinion.

“And Charlotte?” Jane asked, breaking the quiet.

“She knows what is expected of her.” Charlotte bit her lip to stop herself from saying anything in return. She knew what was expected, it didn’t mean she would do it.

***

Ubbe, Hvitserk and Sigurd sat sprawled across the steps. Aslaug stood in front of them, watching the carriage draw closer. She didn’t like the woman, Elizabeth. Her shrewdness wasn’t hard to see, she knew what she was doing when she whispered how pretty her eldest daughter looked dancing with Ubbe. The girl was pretty, but she was Christian. It wouldn’t work, she was a pretty face that wouldn’t withstand their world. It hadn’t taken much to convince Ubbe or Hvitserk to rise early this morning, they’d both been eager to great their guests when they knew the girl was one of them. Elizabeth had spoken of her other daughters, thankfully too young for plotting.

Aslaug was not going to be fooled by the sweet motherly act, she’d dealt with too many of them over the years. Her sons had left broken hearts back home, and no doubt there would be broken hearts here when they left at the end of the season. She couldn’t wait for that day. She hated this place. The less she had to interact with the Christian people, the better.

Ubbe jumped up as the carriage stopped before them. Hvitserk and Sigurd followed suit. Ubbe smiled at his mother. She returned it. Her eldest truly was like his father; calm but intense. She nodded to him.

He stepped forward as the carriage door opened.

***

Startled screams broke out as Ubbe appeared in the door of the carriage, growling, and baring his teeth at the occupants. It was quite the sight when he was no longer in his formal wear; his everyday clothing still consisted of fur and leather, but he looked wilder, dirt streaked his skin, and a dagger was strapped to his waist. He looked like a true pagan today.

Charlotte chuckled at his playfulness as he smiled at the group of women inside, that fierce look giving way to an apologetic one.

“Forgive me, ladies,” he said, sweeping into a low bow. “The temptation was too great.”

Elizabeth was clutching at her chest, frowning at the Prince. Charlotte sat closest to the open door and she leaned forward, taking his attention. “There is nothing to forgive, Prince Ubbe.”

He grinned up at her, holding his hand out for her to take. She smiled, taking it, and finding it warm and strong as his fingers squeezed her hand gently. She gathered up her skirts and let him help her climb from the carriage. He released her hand with a nod before turning back into the carriage and holding out a hand to help the rest of her family. One by one he helped her sisters out, each blushing and giggling as he introduced himself to them.

Her mother was last, she took his hand but seemed to turn her nose up as he greeted her. She didn’t miss it being so close. Her sisters were whispering amongst themselves as Hvitserk bounded over with Sigurd following behind him.

“Good morning Lotti!” he greeted and without warning swept her up in a hug. Surprised, Charlotte squeaked as she was lifted bodily off the ground into strong arms. Her sisters giggled and her mother looked like she’d near had a fit.

“Hvit!” Ubbe growled. Charlotte was blushing madly as Hvitserk paused and slowly lowered her to the ground as though realising what the growl indicated. He quickly pulled his arms from around her waist, putting them behind his back. Charlotte’s heart was racing furiously in her chest. No one had ever grabbed her by the waist like that before.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, though the slight smile to his face indicated he was anything but sorry.

Charlotte dipped into a small curtsy. “Good morning, Hvitserk.”

He watched her with a cocked head, Sigurd was snickering at his brother’s cluelessness and nudged him in the shoulder. “Bow idiot. That’s how you’re meant to greet someone.”

Hvitserk dropped into an awkward, stiff bow and Charlotte smiled at him. Ubbe rolled his eyes and then gestured for them to follow him up to where Aslaug stood by the steps. Hvitserk straightened up as Charlotte stepped past him. “Sorry, Lotti.”

She smiled at the nickname, glancing at him. “Don’t be, you meant no harm.”

“I’m still learning,” he said as he turned to follow them. “It– It is not going so well.”

Charlotte chuckled. “You seem to be in good hands.” She looked at Ubbe’s back as he led them.

Hvitserk smiled. “He’ll murder me later in training, believe me.” Charlotte’s chuckle became full blown laughter at the worried look on Hvitserk’s face, earning more than one curious glance back at them.

***

Her sisters were in awe of Sigurd when he began to sing and perform for them. Charlotte was impressed. It seemed each prince had a talent unique to them. Ubbe remained close to her side, warning Hvitserk to be appropriate and remember his manners. It had been quite entertaining to watch Hvitserk roll his eyes, nodding while stuffing a cake into his mouth in one go, completely ignoring his older brothers second warning. Jane was giggling at him from behind her hand.

Elizabeth and Aslaug didn’t talk much. Charlotte thought it interesting the way her mother tried to start a conversation with the Queen only for a curt reply to be given back. It was evident the Queen saw through her mother’s intentions more than she let on. She was quite an intense woman, her keen eyes watching everything at once.

“Ubbe, perhaps you might show Charlotte the grounds?” Aslaug’s voice cut into the silence. Ubbe sat on the opposite end of the seat to Charlotte. He was such a large man, he looked rather awkward on the small settee. Charlotte had tried not to laugh at the sight, but she couldn’t contain her smile each time he shifted to find a more comfortable spot. 

He sighed in relief, glancing at her as he stood rather quickly off the couch. These poor men were probably not use to sitting and entertaining women like them; Charlotte felt bad, they were roped into this by duty.

“Of course,” he said, holding his hand out to her.

Charlotte took it so he could help her up and then glanced at her mother, who was sipping her tea to hide her smile. “I’d love to. You can tell me about your home.”

“Chaperoned, of course,” her mother said, gesturing to Lucy who stepped forward without hesitation. She let Ubbe lead her out of the sitting room and down the hall. As soon as they were out of sight of their mothers, he held his arm out to her. Surprised, she glanced at Lucy and then back to Ubbe. Lucy only nodded, her eyes saying take it.

Charlotte did just that, slipping her arms around his bicep and forearm which flexed beneath her fingers. He was certainly muscular. She smiled up at him as he glanced at Lucy. “Not a word?”

Lucy held her hands up, smiling. “Not a word, your highness.”

Charlotte could’ve sworn Lucy blushed as Ubbe flashed her a wide smile. “Come on then, both of you.”

***

“Was the trip here uncomfortable?” Charlotte asked. She’d never travelled beyond England; their house in the off season was a few days from London and that was the extent of her travelling knowledge.

Ubbe chuckled. “Not particularly. Sigurd and Ivar don’t travel by sea well, Ivar less so.”

Lucy kept a respectable distance from them, and Charlotte was a little grateful for her maid’s ability to know what she needed without being asked. They’d been roaming the grounds for a while as Ubbe pointed out various influences of their homeland in places. He leaned in to explain things to her, closer than would’ve been appropriate should anyone see them. She didn’t mind, it was nice to have such a handsome man seemingly enjoying her company. That, or he put on a good show.

Charlotte didn’t want to appear rude, so she commented where necessary. They fell into an awkward silence. She sighed, stopping. Ubbe looked down at her, frowning in confusion. “Is something wrong? Do you want to return to the others?”

She shook her head, her hands still on his arm. “You don’t want to do this, do you?” The frown on his face deepened, it was almost adorable. “Is this out of obligation to keep your parents happy?”

As realisation dawned on Ubbe, he gave her a half smile. “A little.”

She nodded. She thought so, and then took a chance, hoping he might understand if she explained. “My mother, she sees this as a way to gain something from your family, a proposal.” Ubbe didn’t say a word. “I don’t want to force you, or your brothers into something here.”

“My mother knows,” Ubbe said. Charlotte’s eyes widened, almost comically as Ubbe chuckled. “She has no intention of us getting hitched, Lotti. You’re safe with me too, you’re a beautiful young woman, there is no doubting that, but I have a lover back home.” Relief flooded her. “And any woman who tries to tie Hvit down, might regret it.”

Charlotte couldn’t help it, she started laughing. “He does seem rather wild, and free.”

Ubbe grinned. “You have no idea. He’s behaving rather well compared to his usual self.”

“Oh dear.” Charlotte was mortified by the idea of Hvitserk amplified beyond what she’d seen so far.

Ubbe leaned in close, glancing side long at Lucy who was pretending to find the hedges fascinating. “Thank the gods, you’ve a brain between those pretty eyes and spoke up.”

She smiled at the compliment, gripping his arm a little tighter. “Friends?”

He nodded. “I would be honoured to be friends with you.” Charlotte adored him; grateful they’d been able to be honest with one another. “Now, would you like to return, or would you like me to continue boring you with statues and architecture to pass the time?”

She chuckled, leaning in even closer to him, almost conspiratorially. “Do you think we might do something fun? Surely there is fun to be had beyond strolling?”

Ubbe grinned at her, regarding her quietly for a moment before glancing back at Lucy. “What about our escort?”

“Lucy?” she asked, he nodded. “She is my maid; she won’t say anything to my mother, but she will stay with us. We don’t want a scandal.”

Ubbe chuckled, looking at Lucy who was strolling some paces behind them now, walking circles on the path.

Looking around, Charlotte noticed a small tent like structure off the path. “What is that?”

Ubbe hummed, following her gaze. “We get our tattoos there. Mother isn’t too keen on it happening indoors, so we organised our man to have that space.” Ubbe gestured to the striking runic work running down his face.

Charlotte was fascinated by the tattoos she’d seen. “Would you show me?”

He glanced at the tent again, brow furrowed but nodded after a moment. “Just be prepared, there is blood when we’re tattooed.”

Charlotte smiled. “I’m certain your reflexes are quick enough that you’ll catch me should I faint upon the sight.” Ubbe chuckled, catching onto her teasing.

He guided her off the path, towards the tent. Charlotte heard tapping as they drew closer. Glancing at Ubbe, it was hard to contain her curiosity. He’d explained some of the process to her during their dance, but to see it was a whole different story.

Ubbe called out to someone, she gathered it was the tattoo artist.

“Go away.”

Charlotte was taken back by the smooth, heavily accented demand at they stepped round the side of the tent into view. She was startled by the partially naked man sitting before her. Her breath caught in her throat as he raised his gaze, and Charlotte’s dark eyes met a pair of the most disarmingly ice blue ones she’d ever seen. Charlotte felt exposed as they trailed over her like she was a piece of art on display.

The clearing of a throat and Charlotte was rocked back into an aware state as those eyes left her and settled on Ubbe beside her. Mortified by the reaction she had, Charlotte glanced at Ubbe who was looking at her, brow furrowed as though aware something was wrong. Was she that transparent?

Ubbe didn’t take his eyes off her immediately as he spoke to the man before them. “Ivar, play nice.”

The young man’s laughter was cynical. “Or what?”

Charlotte finally felt more steeled to face the young man, Ivar, and turned her gaze back to him. She didn’t meet his icy eyes this time, instead, she took in a young, handsome face; his facial hair was trimmed neat and short, and it was as dark as the hair atop his head. The sides of his head were shaved, the thick locks pulled back into braids. This was the youngest son of Ragnar; this was Ivar. A very shirtless, barely clothed Ivar. A deep blush spread across her cheeks as her gaze swept over tanned, muscular shoulders covered in tattoos, and down across a broad chest to hard abdominals. He was breathtaking to behold, and she was quite away of how bold it was that she looked but she’d never seen a man quite like him.

“Enjoying the view, my lady?” The sneer was evident in his tone, and Charlotte felt ashamed as she gazed at him so openly, her eyes dropping to her feet.

“Ivar.” The warning came from Ubbe. Silence fell over them, only broken by the tapping being done to Ivar’s back. Ivar raised a hand and the man working on his back stopped what he was doing, turning away to do something behind him.

The youngest Prince reached for a cup as he leaned over the small bench he’d been resting on. Charlotte could feel the tension in the air, could tell when she wasn’t wanted. Glancing at Ubbe, she squeezed his arm a little to gain his attention. “It’s my fault, I didn’t consider that someone would be so undressed. We can return to the house.”

She needed to get away from that intense gaze. Glancing at Ivar, she swallowed as she found him watching her intently. She bobbed into a small curtsy to him. “Forgive the intrusion, Prince Ivar.”

“Did you think skin would be tattooed through one’s clothing?” The mocking way he asked made Charlotte reflexively frown back, she didn’t catch herself quick enough to hide it. He chuckled seeing the brief slip in her usually docile mask. He was quite intense, and shrewd. It was no surprise he had avoided the ball last night. Most of the women would’ve panicked or fainted outright by the way he commanded himself. Charlotte didn’t fail to notice the way her heart beat a little faster in her chest as he shifted, the muscles in his upper body flexing and coiling with his movement.

He used the bench he was leaning against to stand, though it was rather stiff. He was tall, even with the way he held himself over the table to support his weight. This was the man the girls had called a cripple, that people whispered was boneless. It wasn’t hard to see the way he supported himself more to one side as he stood there, he reached for a crudely made crutch.

Charlotte stiffened a little, not willing to take his mockery of her. “No, I did not. Though listening to Ubbe describe it, and seeing someone go through it, are two different things.”

He gave her a half smirk, as though pleased with the biting response before that icy gaze went to Ubbe at her side. “Then stay and watch. If you don’t faint from the sight of the blood, that is.”

Charlotte paled as he twisted a little in place to speak to the man behind him and she saw his back. The top half was bloodied and raw, hiding a great deal of the work being done. She’d never seen so much blood before, but she was curious. She took a step towards Ivar, not realising she’d done so, to look at his mid back closer. Ubbe had released her. When Ivar turned back to face them, they were so much closer to one another. His icy gaze levelled on her and this time, she didn’t look away, swallowing the strange lump that was in her throat. Ivar didn’t speak as he lowered himself back into place, spreading his arms across the bench as he watched her.

“Lotti, we should head back.”

Ubbe broke the silence, and she was a little grateful as she’d been caught in Ivar’s gaze. Nodding, she licked her lips as she turned to face him, forcing herself to look away from the young Prince who had been staring her down.

“Yes, we should.” As he steered her away, Charlotte looked back at Ivar. “Thank you for letting me look, even though we intruded.”

Those blue eyes drew together in confusion for a moment before he simply nodded and went back to focusing on holding still. Ubbe led her back to the house, not speaking and Charlotte was glad, because she didn’t have words.

***

Ubbe and Charlotte separated as they entered the hall leading to the sitting room. “Are you alright?”

She glanced at Lucy, then Ubbe before nodding. “Yes, I am.”

“Ivar, isn’t a people person.” He wasn’t joking. How did a man, so young, so handsome become so harsh? Was there something her father hadn’t told her about his birth? She was so confused, mainly by her reaction to him. Her pulse quickened at the mere thought of him and his bare chest.

“It is fine, I did invade. Would you let him know I am sorry if I caused him any discomfort?”

Ubbe stared at her, head cocked to the side for a moment. She wasn’t sure what to make of the look he gave her but when he nodded, she was relieved. They entered the sitting room. Hvitserk was sprawled across the seat by a window, half awake and all sense of propriety gone. Jane and Sigurd were playing music for everyone, her sister looked happy. Harriet, Lizzie, and Margaret were sitting opposite Queen Aslaug and their mother.

Charlotte tried hard to focus as she found a seat, but her thoughts were scattered, filled with the memory of muscular arms tensing as he braced for the pain. Ivar. She’d finally met him, and her curiosity was in overdrive, she didn’t know what she expected, but he wasn’t it.

She hadn’t realised she was a little breathless until she felt Ubbe press a glass of water into her hand as he stepped passed her. He smiled at her, and she returned it weakly. She’d made a friend of him. Charlotte nodded her thanks, sipping on the water. The air felt hot and heavy in here; made her feel stifled.

Charlotte needed to escape. She looked at Lucy, her eyes pleading. She needed air. Excusing herself, Charlotte and Lucy stepped out onto the terrace. She leaned against the stones, hoping, and wishing for their coolness and that she might be able to absorb some of their resilience.

“Are you alright, mistress?”

Charlotte nodded. “The air in there was hot and stuffy. I just need a minute.” She wouldn’t tell her that the reason was her thoughts had been consumed by Ivar. Would Lucy even understand?

Charlotte felt the stare before she saw him. Looking around to her left she saw him walking towards them. Lucy followed her gaze and gasped, quickly looking at Charlotte who stopped her from saying anything by placing a hand on her maid’s forearm. The crutch in his left hand took a lot of his weight. His eyes were on her, and Charlotte felt the sudden need to sink into the stone under the scrutiny of his gaze.

“You don’t recoil at the sight.”

It was strange to see someone so young walking so stiff and awkward. Charlotte frowned a little, glancing at Lucy who seemed hesitant to stay put. “Recoil?”

Ivar stood a few feet away and gestured to his legs. Charlotte really looked at him. He was not hidden behind the bench now. Her eyes took in the way his legs were braced and strapped, supporting him. After a moment, she drew her gaze back to his. That is why they called him cripple?

There was something there in his eyes, but it was unknown to her; it disappeared so fast Charlotte thought she had imagined it.

“Why would I recoil from you?” Lucy had tried to, but Charlotte had stayed her.

He didn’t answer and for a moment they stood beneath the others gaze, her outward serenity belied the fast canter of her heart at seeing him while his pierced her like he was trying to see beneath her skin.

She felt exposed again, and he stepped forward until he was able to lift himself to sit on the stone rail on the opposite end of the terrace to her. That gaze still on her.

Lucy had stepped behind Charlotte, eyes downcast, not speaking.

“Which one are you? Arthur’s eldest I assume since they’re trying to breed you with Ubbe.”

Charlotte suffered whiplash at the abrupt, very confronting question. Her frown returned. “I’m Charlotte, and no, I will not be bred with Ubbe.” She gathered he’d chosen his words to purposely thrown her, make her feel uncomfortable but she wouldn’t let it.

A clearing of the throat drew all their gazes. Aslaug stood in the doorway to the terrace; those piercing eyes taking in the scene before her.

“Ivar, are you alright dear?”

Ivar smiled at his mother. It made him look so handsome. Charlotte caught herself quickly. Oh dear, there was something so boyish at the way he looked at his mother.

“Fine,” he said, then glanced at Charlotte. “Was simply learning what Ubbe’s bride to be was called.”

It was like she wasn’t there. He didn’t look at her. Aslaug looked at her and Lucy. There was no smile on her face, the woman’s presence was serene but powerful.

“There is no proposal, Ivar and I’m certain Charlotte doesn’t like being spoken of like she is not present in the conversation.”

Ivar glanced at Charlotte as she looked at him. He bowed his head a little, sucking his teeth beneath his lower lip for a moment. He looked petulant as though he wanted to say something, but his mother’s words and presence stopped him.

He was quite a blunt, cruel young man in his candour. It was a jolt to her system. He made no effort to be societal towards her, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t find it intriguing that he wasn’t afraid she might take offense.

“Come Charlotte, your mother feels poorly and wishes to return home.”

It was an escape from that intense young man, part of her didn’t want to escape, but she needed to. As Lucy stepped towards the open doors, Charlotte turned back to Ivar. She dipped into a curtsy. “Enjoy your afternoon, your highness.”

She felt that unyielding state on her as she escaped back into the sitting room with Lucy and the Queen.


End file.
